


To Overcome

by RenjiFan



Series: Behind the Curtain [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Schmoop, Timestamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:19:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24884452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenjiFan/pseuds/RenjiFan
Summary: A Jensen POV timestamp from Behind the Curtain. Takes place directly after Jared’s drunken phone call on Saturday night and follows him throughout the entire week Jared skips classes. If you haven't read "Behind the Curtain" then this will make NO sense lol
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Series: Behind the Curtain [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800667
Kudos: 20





	To Overcome

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LJ April 2009

Saturday Night

When Jensen hears silence on the line, he pulls the phone away and watches the small print blink back at him several times. Disconnected.

Cause I don’t know if I even have a chance with you. And I really wanna have a chance with you, Jen…

Jared’s voice rings loud and clear in his head as he calmly sets his phone back on the nightstand, eyes rising to the ceiling as he wonders what the hell just happened and tries to calm his pounding heart.

He’s tried so hard, so fucking hard not to think about this, not with Jared, not now…

Jensen doesn’t go back to sleep that night, and when Chris comes back from his gig in Jersey the next day to find him in his boxers and a T-shirt watching reruns of Roseanne, he simply heads into the kitchen for the bottle of Jameson, sits down beside him and takes a long pull before passing the bottle over.

If only everyone understood him as well as Chris. If only Jensen understood himself as well as Chris…

~*~

Monday

When Jared doesn’t show up for class on Monday, Jensen forces down all of his disappointment and does what he does best. He distracts himself.

He’s played thirty-seven rounds of Texas Hold ‘Em on the internet, alphabetized his collection of past scripts and started on the laundry when Chris gets home from a night out with his buddies from the band.

“Jenny. What the hell?” Chris asks, face screwed up in confusion at the abundance of clothes spread out on their kitchen floor. There are seven piles total, broken down by brights, darks, whites, sweaters, jeans, linens and towels and Jensen is in the process of pulling out another set of sheets from the linen closet to add to the pile.

“What, what the hell? I’m doing laundry,” he explains, as if the situation really should speak for itself and Chris scoffs.

“I can see that, man, but is three o’clock in the mornin’ really the best time to start washin’ every piece of clothing you own? I don’t think I’ve even ever seen you wear this,” he says, picking up a grey sweater with a red and black checker pattern across the front.

“That’s cause I haven’t,” Jensen sighs, dropping the sheets into their rightful pile before snatching the sweater away from his roommate. “It’s been in my closet forever and if I ever do wanna wear it, I don’t want it to smell like mothballs.”

Chris rolls his eyes and steps precariously over the mound of jeans by the fridge, nudging it with his foot to get the door open. “You’re really that messed up about this, aren’t ya?” he asks nonchalantly, fetching two beers from the bottom shelf before closing it with the heel of his boot. He screws them open and holds one out for Jensen and Jensen stares at it for a moment before sighing and taking it.

Chris props himself up on the counter and hooks his boots at the ankle as he takes a nice long pull and Jensen falls against the door frame.

“I’m not messed up, Chris… I’m just, you know… Confused, I guess,” he tells him and Chris nods, hand rising to tip back his cowboy hat, revealing his crystal blue eyes.

“So, the kid called, confessed his undyin’ love and now you’re all screwed up because he might be playin’ Sam and cause I made a flippant comment about him looking like Jason. And you’re startin’ to wanna get back up on that stage but you feel like you’re betraying Jason by takin’ the part when he’s not playin’ beside you. That about sum it up?”

Jensen scoffs and takes another drink, inwardly berating his friend for his bluntness. “Something like that.”

“I don’t see what the problem is, Jenny.” Chris kicks lightly against the counter and Jensen levels him with a look.

“You know what the problem is.”

“And I also know he’d kick your ass for giving up on something you believe in.” Chris’s eyes feel like they’re going to bore holes into the side of Jensen’s face as he stares at the wall, throat working against words he doesn’t want to speak. “Jenny. Listen… It’s been five years. You know I loved Jason like a brother, man, but he would not want you sitting around here livin’ for him when he’s not even here. It’s time to live for you, ya got me? And if that means takin’ a chance on this kid, or getting’ back on stage, or hell, both… Then ya gotta do it. If not for yourself, then for him.”

Jensen nods but he can’t bring himself to agree, even though he knows his best friend speaks the truth. The guilt is still too strong, too bitter and he doesn’t want to think about it anymore tonight.

“I’m goin’ to bed, man,” he says after draining the rest of his beer and throwing it into the trash. “I’ll get the rest of this tomorrow.”

Chris nods and salutes him with his beer and Jensen can still feel his concerned eyes following him as he steps from the kitchen and towards his room. His head feels too out of sync and his chest feels too heavy and he just wants to sleep.

~*~

Wednesday

When Bobby tells him that they’ve decided to offer Jared the part of Sam, Jensen doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. He’s so confused at this point that he really doesn’t know what to do and that’s when, of course, Bobby asks him to reconsider taking on the role of Dean.

“I haven’t even started auditioning for him, Jen. Just please, think about it.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and shakes his head, shifting his phone from one ear to the other. “Yeah, Bobby, I’ll think about it.”

“That’s my boy.”

~*~

Thursday

Jensen’s fingers itch to pick up his phone when Jared doesn’t show up for class on Thursday and he finds himself so goddamn frustrated, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. The disappointment he feels is so damned depressing on top of everything else, especially when he’s told himself over and over that he wasn’t getting his hopes up about seeing him. Nope. He didn’t care. But even Jensen knows he sucks at rationalization, knows that his disappointment proves just how much he really does want to see Jared and it makes him angry with himself and at Jared for leaving him feeling like this.

He thinks about asking Sandy if Jared’s been sick, or if he really is just avoiding him, but he thinks better of it, figures the last thing he needs is a scandal among his students and resigns himself to a long walk home in the cold New York night.

It’s quite a distance from campus, but the air is cold enough against his flushed face to make him feel grounded. His mind whirls and repeats, runs rampant and stops at random intervals and he finds himself continually coming back to a single point. Jared.

The last five years have been painted over with the mantra of “Get through this, breathe, survive, do what’s best, breathe,” and he honestly can’t recall the last time, before he met Jared, that he felt passionate about something.

The day Jared came over to run lines, the day he watched Jared connect to Sam and felt the power of living in his shoes, the way he looked at him as Dean and anguished for him… He felt something, a connection, an understanding. It had been something so incredibly deep that he’d trusted Jared enough to tell him about Jason, to offer his friendship where with so many others he simply didn’t care enough to even try.

It’s strange, though, how Chris related them, because when Jensen looks at Jared, he doesn’t see Jason. Jason was a man of quiet nobility and strength, where Jared is a powerhouse of energy and vibrancy. They may look alike but they couldn’t be more different in their approaches, both to acting and to life and Jensen wonders if maybe it’s those differences that he’s so attracted to. He loved Jason with everything he had, but there is something amazing about Jared that just won’t let him go, no matter how hard he tries. And his mind just keeps bringing him back to him.

When he reaches his complex, he unlocks the front door and hefts his way up the stairs but pauses at the door, unable to walk inside. His hand reaches into his pocket and thumbs at his cell, wondering what Jared would say if he called him, just to check up.

He shakes his head and pushes the phone down deep into his jeans before fetching his keys once more and unlocking his door. He will call Jared, but not tonight. Not until he knows exactly what he wants. He owes him that much.

~*~

Sunday Night

Something cold and hard has lodged itself in Jensen’s throat as he rummages through his closet but he refuses to acknowledge it, refuses to name it. He knows he doesn’t deserve to do what he’s thinking of doing, so instead he shuts himself off, simply loses himself in his search for the one thing he thought he’d never need again.

It’s in the bottom of an old trunk, one with hinges that squeak with resistance as he pulls the top upward and feels around. When his hands land on the smooth material, he almost gasps at how cool it feels, how many memories are tied to simply the feel of the fabric.

He forces all thoughts from his mind as he pulls the jacket free from its hiding place, smoothing it over his lap for a moment in silence before he stands, retreats from the closet and steps into the dimly lit bedroom.

As familiar as it felt is as foreign as it feels now as he slides the leather jacket on, pulling the edges taut and running his callused fingertips along the lines of the hem. He stares in the full-length mirror propped up beside his television and can’t fathom the picture he sees.

In all of the times he’s tried to encompass Dean, he’s never fit the part so well. His eyes are red brimmed from lack of sleep, stubble from the past two days marring his usually clean-shaven jaw. Lines run around the bottom of his lip and his eyes, lingering and foreboding and his jaw is hard, clenched tight against the guilt that wants to spill forth and take him over.

He sits on the edge of the bed and continues to stare at his reflection from farther away, lets himself succumb to the memories that surface. He remembers the day he found the leather jacket at the local consignment shop, remembers how he had brought it home and tried it on for Jason. He remembers how Jason’s eyes had lit up in excitement as he ran his hands over the well worn leather, saying “This is perfect, Jen. Absolutely perfect.”

He lets his fingers travel across the hem of the cuff, bump over bump of thread stitched perfectly years and years ago, faded and stained and perfect for Dean.

And I also know he’d kick your ass for giving up on something you believe in…

And he would, Jensen knows. He knows it like he knows the feel of this jacket, like he knows the script they read over and over, making sure every line, every direction was perfect. He knows it like he knows no one could ever understand Dean the way he does, the way he thought no one else could understand Sam.

And it’s then that the doubt comes. Jared’s Sam… He wasn’t lying. He’s perfect. He’s perfect for the role that has evolved to the times, the gaping hole that Jensen felt would always be present without Jason there filled because of the sincerity he brings to an almost completely different take on the same character. Jason’s Sam was perfect in his pain. Jared’s Sam is perfect in his passion.

It’s confusing and heartbreaking and he doesn’t want to feel like this anymore, doesn’t want this guilt, this burden of struggling through the pain of the last five years when it somehow seems there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. He wants so much, knows he’s wrong for it, but he can’t…

Tears fall from his tired eyes and he doesn’t realize it until he sees the spots swelling the leather where he rubs and he shakes his head to clear it, stares back at the mirror across the room and then closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says, praying Jason can hear him, prays he understands that he’s not just sorry for finding his replacement, but also for caring for the kid, for not wanting to give up Dean, for everything.

He cries until the worn brown of his jacket turns black on the arms, swollen and drenched and he feels a poetic irony at the fact that Dean’s jacket is collecting his sorrow, just as he collected Dean for so many months before. He’s filled with guilt over his selfishness and fear over his decisions, but he knows, he knows he can’t go on like this. If not for himself, then for the man who loved him so much.

He picks up the phone and scrolls through his contacts until he sees Bobby’s number, takes a deep breath and hits Call.

“Hey, Bobby… Listen, about Dean…” Jensen takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “You don’t have to run auditions for him. I’m in.”

I’m sorry.


End file.
